breakfast

.












Breakfast


before came her Sun Earth drew us from bed
pen and her poet in time for John Cargher’s final show
with soy milk and muesli
and Zbigniew Herbert on Marcus Aurelius

“good night Marcus put out the light”
he wrote in the scorched gullies of his blitzburgh
as dead John croaked on about the deficiencies of coloratura

genetically modified
breakfast replaced the morning dung

outside in the frozen vineyard of drought
foxes sprint for last low swallows

she’s wondering whether to flick us off
teased by the notion of a nice new start

“We know there’s plenty of time”
she whispers to her brother

Mars

who’s rueing his last sweet drink
while this tiny machine scratches holes in the top of his head

the sort of gadget Gordon Barton and Paul Hamlyn
dream of securing at auction
for strategic fucking purposes

hi boys

kookaburras laugh us back to our shroud


Philip White